


Good King Eames-ceslas

by theskyandsea



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, King Eames, Love at First Sight, M/M, Peasant Arthur, SO MUCH FLUFF, don’t base a relationship on how hot someone looks collecting firewood, fluff fluff fluff, not really a saint au, reckless disregard for historical fact, saint au, sorry ariadne, unless you're eames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskyandsea/pseuds/theskyandsea
Summary: Good King Wenceslas AUIn which Eames is not a saint, just a king rather taken by a hot and ridiculous peasant.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	Good King Eames-ceslas

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I told myself this year would be the year I finally memorised all the verses to Good King Wenceslas. I have no clue how that turned into me writing 4k of Eames and Arthur fluff.  
> This takes place in a medievalish/renaissanceish sort of setting, but with no research or attention paid to anachronisms. It is in no way historically accurate, except for the non-hot-chocolate food, which I googled with gusto.
> 
> This is my first fanfic ever! Unbetaed.

On the feast of Stephan, King Eames quietly slipped away to one of the balconies off the great hall for some air.

Inside, a cheer went up as the musicians launched into another song, and Eames could hear the scrape of benches against the stone floor as more partiers joined in the dancing. He knew they were probably missing him, or at least noting his absence with disapproval. His page had informed him many times that the courtiers expected to be given the honour of rubbing shoulders with him in exchange for the taxes they paid.

But Eames was exhausted by the stuffy rooms with their sputtering candles and brightly dressed nobles who fawned over him but didn’t care to actually get to know him. He’d always know it would be lonely to be king alone, but he wasn’t really prepared for how much lonelier it was when there were masses of people who wanted to talk to you about their own problems.

Outside, the wind bit at him, blowing straight through his formal robes. His shoes were already soaked from the snow that had settled in drifts across the balcony. Shivering, he stood and surveilled his kingdom. The full moon shone down on the trees, and the light reflected off the snow, turning the night from black to a sort of dream-like otherworld. 

Another gust of wind almost knocked Eames over, and he was turning to go back inside when he saw him. 

Trudging through the forest in front of the castle was a peasant, pulling a sled piled with logs and bundles of sticks for kindling. It was stacked a bit precariously, and the peasant had to stop every few feet to stabilise his load.

As he made his way directly below Eames, another few logs fell off this sled. Eames could almost see the peasant doing the mental math to fit them back on in a way that they wouldn’t just wind up back in the snow. The peasant let out a huff, breath forming a cloud in front of him, and bent down to gather the wood. Eames let out a breath of his own. 

He had no hat, his hair slicked back by the wet night, and while the peasant’s clothes were not as fancy and well made as his, they were still tight enough to show off his rather fine ass. All of him was rather fine, really. He had a very nice profile, with an elegant air about him that made Eames want to unbutton him and turn him into a mess.

Once the logs were back on the sled, the peasant started a complicated looking process of gently shaking and picking out every piece of stray bark and decayed leaves that clung to his coat. Eames was warmed by the sheer ridiculousness of this peasant, with his fussy attention to detail and lovely elegance.

The peasant was now staring at his pile like he’d like to give it a good talking to and Eames thought that there was a non zero chance that this peasant could be the love of his life.

He watched the peasant begin to leave, pulling his sled full of wood that no longer dared to fall over, and was overcome with a deep and desperate desire to go and meet this strange and wonderful man and tell him just how ridiculous and endearing Eames found him.

He turned inside to run down and outside to catch the man and invite him in, but ran into Lord Cobb, who had been waiting just inside the door for him. Cobb immediately grasped his arm and launched into a very drunken spiel about the state of his land and how it would be such an honour if in the new year, my lord could visit us and maybe bring some of this brilliant wine and also possibly one of the ladies in waiting. Eames impatiently tried to extradite himself, and was saved his page, Ariadne, who came up to him bearing a plate of cakes. Eames seized upon her and muttered vague apologies to Cobb, pulling her outside, where the peasant was still just visible. They both flinched against the cold.

“Ari, that man there, pulling that sled, do you happen to know him?” He tried to say it nonchalantly, as if it was an everyday occurrence for a king to take particular interest in random peasants passing by.

Ariadne squinted out. “Well, yes, my lord. That’s Arthur. He’s from my village. Any reason why?” Her face fell. “You aren’t going to charge him with theft for stealing wood from your forest are you?”

Eames stared at her. “Wait— it’s illegal to steal wood from that forest?”

Ariadne nodded gravely. “Punishable by a week in the stocks.”

A plan started to form in Eames mind. “Well, if he needs to steal wood from me, then he can’t be that well off, can he?”

Ariadne hesitated. “No worse off than anyone else, I think. It’s been a tough winter. Colder than most.”

Eames smiled. “Well I must help him then. Bring him some warmth. Do you know where he lives?”

“He lives a good few miles from here, under the mountain. His house is next to the forest’s edge.” 

“Right then, Ari. We are going to skip this feast, gather some food and wine and bring them to him.” With that, Eames set off toward the kitchen.

***

The kitchen was the warmest room of any castle and Eames always loved hiding in it as a child. Now, armed with a satchel and every bit of charm he could muster, he went in search of the cook. Around him, the servants ran about, carrying steaming dishes of roast venison swimming in thick gravy, massive pies carried by three men and colourful root vegetables. He swiped a few bottles of the wine Cobb had been so enthusiastic about, and a thermos of piping hot chocolate. 

Mal, one of the french ladies in waiting, spied him stealing the food and slapped his hand. “My lord, everyone’s been looking for you. We can hardly start the next course without you.”

Eames sighed and put on his most angelic smile. “My lady,” he kissed her hand. “I’m afraid the court will have to do without me for this feast. I have just seen a poor peasant passing by, and I just must go help him. I’m gathering some food to take to his family now.”

Mal looked at him suspiciously. “And the fact that you always look bored during feasts has nothing to do with your leaving?”

“Is it not enough that I am being charitable? Must I always have a double motive?”

Mal sighed and looked at him. “Yes, but you have looked sad lately so I will help you with this charity.”

He beamed at her. Mal grabbed some cloths and started wrapping up what food she could. Eames piled it all haphazardly in the satchel, kissed her cheek and set out.

As he left the kitchen, he spied a vase of flowers grown in the greenhouse so that the court could enjoy fresh flowers all winter. Carefully, he took the flowers from the vase placed them in his bag, next to the hot chocolate.

He ran to his chambers, narrowly avoiding running into Cobb once again. The feast was still in full swing, and the halls of the castle were fairly empty. He grabbed his warmest cloak and boots and paused. Arthur would probably be cold too, and Eames had so many nice cloaks he rarely wore. Arthur might even prefer a cloak to flowers, which were pretty useless as gifts went. He reached into the bottom of his trunk and picked one that he hadn’t worn lately and shoved it down into the satchel.

***

He met Ari at the doors of the castle. She was holding two lit lanterns and wrapped up in the scarf that had been his Christmas gift to her. She handed him a lantern and together they went out into the night.

It had started snowing, and the wind blew it thick and fast around them. Eames pulled his cloak tighter as they passed into the forest. He turned to Ari. “Tell me about Arthur. I want to know everything.”

Ari smiled at him. “It’ll be nice for Arthur to get some company and holiday cheer. He’s plenty kind, but he’s also a bit of a stick in the mud, and I don’t think he has many friends here."

“He must be really strong if he can pull all those logs,” Eames said and remembered fondly the shape of him picking up wood.

She laughed. “He’s very strong. Rumour has it he was a soldier for hire, but now he mostly works with the blacksmith, making swords and horseshoes and whatever else people need.”

Eames immediately imagined Arthur in a smithy, shirtless and sweating from the heat of the forge. He liked the thought immensely.

The wind picked up again, harsher than before. It blew through Ariadne’s lantern, extinguishing it. The forest turned grey-green and haunting around them, with only the one lantern and the moon through the trees as a guide. Ari shivered next to Eames, and they huddled closer when they walked. They didn’t talk, just listened as the wind whistled.

Around a mile from the edge of the forest, Ari tripped on a root hidden by the snow and tumbled into a snowbank. She let out a soft oof as she hit the ground. Eames helped her up, and brushed as much snow as he could off her. 

She shuddered, crusted in snow. “It’s all down my back, under my cloak, fuck that’s cold.”

They walked a bit further, and Ari shivered violently against the wind and falling snow. It was blowing into them now, flakes of snow landing on their faces. Eames could feel the bite of where the moisture of his breath had frozen onto his stubble. Ari shivered again, and Eames said, “Why don’t you walk behind me — I’m bigger than you and I can block out the worst of the wind.”

Ari shot him a grateful look and trudged along behind him. He turned, swinging the lantern around to make sure she was following.

He heard her gasp. “My god,” she whispered. “I think you’ve been blessed for helping Arthur.” He turned around fully, and she pointed at a trail of melted snow and flower petals that had followed them through the woods. Eames stated at it in shock. In some places there were petals scattered, but in others bits of green and brown soil sat like tiny oasis's of spring.

With a sinking feeling, Eames felt the bottom of the satchel. It was warm and wet, and there was a growing hole. He pulled his fingers away and found them covered in hot chocolate and a few crushed petals. 

Ari was examining the nearest patch of melted snow, right behind Eames. “It’s incredible, my lord. It’s still slightly warm.”

He felt a pang of embarrassment. “I’m sure it’s just a mistake Ari. Let’s keep going, and please don’t mention this to anyone at court.” He tried to discreetly reach into the bag so he could fix the lid on the hot chocolate and move the flowers. It was one thing to go about being a kind king, charitably giving a peasant some food and drink, but bringing flowers to him would probably raise some eyebrows. Possibly more eyebrows than a blessing from God for doing a good deed.

Ari rolled her eyes. “God doesn’t make mistakes, my lord.” She took a closer look at one of the flowers. “That’s strange. These flowers are the same type that the gardeners grew for the feast.” She picked up a bit of semi-melted snow and gave if a good sniff. “Is — is this hot chocolate?”

Eames panicked. “No. Nope. It must be God. I’m a very good king, you know. Definitely deserving of divine blessings and all that.” 

Ari gave him a look. “But—"

Eames cut her off. "Shall we continue then? You must be very cold, and I’ll bet Arthur will let you dry off by the fire he made out of all those logs.”

He set off, cloak billowing regally. He heard Ari shuffle to keep up, but didn’t look behind him. 

***

Finally, they reached the edge of the forest. Arthur’s cottage was pressed right up against the fence, covered in a layer of snow. It was low and squat, with smoke cheerfully leaving the chimney. Eames knew it was Arthur’s because the sled was leaning against the wall next to the door. There was a very neatly shovelled path leading from the road to the door, lined with two precise banks of snow. 

Eames, relieved that their journey was nearly over, practically skipped up the path. Ari, clearly very cold and much more subdued, followed him. He knocked on the door, and waited with bated breath.

Inside, there was a crash, and Arthur opened the door. He stared at Eames and Ariadne in shock.

“Hello Arthur,” Eames purred. “We were just in the neighbourhood, and Ari fell into some snow and has a dreadful chill. Is there any chance she could come in and warm up by your fire?”

Arthur blinked and looked out at them. Eames looked around as well. The garden, so immaculate when they came in, now had bits of flowers and hot chocolate melting the snow in random patches.

Arthur said, “Ari, of course you can come in. Take your coat off. I just lit the fire.” Then he turned to Eames. “Aren’t you the king?”

Eames beamed. “Why yes, darling, thank you for noticing.”

Arthur made no move to welcome him in. Eames heaved up his satchel and said, “Well shall we head in then?”

Arthur’s mouth moved around, in a way that if you were feeling optimistic, you might have thought that he was hiding a smile. Eames was feeling very optimistic.

“Of course, your highness. Come in.”

“Call me Eames, petal.”

Arthur made a face at him, but a faint blush rose on his cheeks.

Inside, Arthur’s house was utterly delightful in a very orderly way. The logs that he had just collected were stacked by the fire to dry, along with his coat. There were notebooks along the shelves, each labeled and dated. Blacksmithing bits and bobs were in careful piles with polish cloths folded beside them. Ari was sitting wrapped in a blanket in front of the fire, looking far less pale and cold. Eames poked around, being very charmed by everything.

Arthur brought the bag of food in and set it on the table. “You left this outside.”

Eames went over to help. He opened the bag and began pulling out things. First came the food, carefully packaged by Mal. “I thought we might have a bit of a feast, so I grabbed what I could. There’s some venison marinated in salt.” 

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. Eames put the meat down next to the bag. “There’s also a leg of wild boar, mini peacock and pork pies, custard tarts, French cheese and grapes…” 

With every new thing Eames piled on the table, Arthur’s eyebrows rose progressively higher. The pile wobbled and threatened to topple and Arthur lunged over to stop the grapes and tarts from rolling onto the floor. “Forgive me, your highness, but what exactly are you doing here?”

“Eames, darling. And what, a king can’t decide to be charitable at Christmas and bring food to his subjects?” Eames winked.

“A king can, but I’ve never heard of you doing anything like this before. And that doesn’t explain why you’re here, at my house, specifically. There are plenty people worse off.”

Eames pulled in close to Arthur and said, “Ah, yes, but they weren’t collecting wood in my forest looking at the logs as though they personally offended them.”

Arthur said, a little horrified, “This is far too much food for just the three of us, I can’t accept it.”

“Don’t worry, darling. We can give it to the locals in the morning. Now, Ari, if you’ve warmed up, do you mind helping me set this all out?”

Ari came over and started searching the cupboards for plates. Eames gave Arthur a look. “Now, there’s still a few things left in here, so bear with me.”

“Oh god,” said Arthur faintly.

Eames pulled out a rich red arcade cloak with gilt gold embroidery. He noted with a pang that part of it was wet and brown with hot chocolate. 

Arthur looked at in alarm. “Do you always travel with extra cloaks?”

Eames smiled. “This is for you, petal. I thought you might like something a bit warmer and brighter.”

Arthur looked like he was about to protest, so Eames turned to the fireplace. “It’s a bit wet though, so I’ll leave it by the fire to dry, okay?”

The last things out of the satchel were the half empty hot chocolate and crushed flowers. He gave them to Arthur apologetically. Ari gave him A Look. “Definitely a Saint, then?”

“Shh, Ari.” To Arthur he said, “The flowers did look much better before we left. There’s still some cocoa though, so that’s good.”

Arthur seemed to have given up on talking altogether. He just looked around the table with a sort of shocked amusement.

Eames smiled at him, his dazzling smile, the one he used on stubborn dignitaries. “If you have cups, darling, I can pour the wine.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but went and grabbed three glasses. Eames produced a bottle of wine, finally emptying the satchel, and poured a healthy measure in each. 

***

As Arthur and Eames were filling up their plates, Ari asked, “Is there somewhere I can crash? That walk really took it out of me, and I think I just need to sleep.”

“Yes, Ari, you can sleep here tonight. Thanks for asking. My bed’s in the other room. You can sleep there.” 

Ari smiled at him and kissed the side of his head. “Thanks, Arthur. I’ll let you two have dinner and get properly acquainted.” She waggled her eyebrows and left.

Eames looked at Arthur. “That was kind of you. We’ve pretty much just barged in on your night.” He said, unapologetically.

Arthur shrugged. “I’ve known Ari since I moved here. She knows she’s welcome here whenever.” He looked at Eames sideways. “I’ve heard a lot of her stories about you, too. You seem to be unable to be stopped once you get an idea in your head.”

“That’s because I only have good ideas, and if I were to not follow through on one that would be very unjust.”

“So it was a good idea to drag Ari though miles of snow to come meet a random peasant late at night?” 

Eames looked at him, mock outraged. “Of course it was! It was to meet you, that’s my best idea in ages.”

Arthur blushed and swallowed thickly. He studied his plate and stayed silent. Eames refilled both their wines. “What are you really doing here?”

Eames smiled. “I saw you, collecting wood, and I thought you were so delightful that I had to meet you immediately”

Arthur sighed. “I’m not delightful, I’m pretty boring really, I’m surprised Ari didn’t tell you not to bother.”

“Trust me, love, I know boring people and you were the most interesting thing at that feast.” 

Arthur laughed. “I think that says more about the quality of the company you keep than it does me.”

Eames looked at him with more seriousness than he had all night. He pulled Arthur’s hand into his. “I’m here to woo you, darling. I saw you from that balcony, with your wood and your rather brilliant ass and I thought ‘I must know this strange and wonderful man’. And luckily, I’m the king, so I could collect supplies for a proper wooing and set out.”

Arthur turned away, but Eames could see the corner of his mouth turned up. He fingered the gilt embroidery of the cloak and Eames could see his gaze returning to it again and again as they ate. He smiled, covering his mouth with his goblet of wine. 

He said, “you should try it on, it should be dry now.”

Arthur looked at him in horror. “I can’t wear that. It’s way too ostentatious. You get away with it because you’re a king and people expect you to wear strange clothing, but I have a coat that fits me fine.”

Eames waggled his eyebrows. “You like my strange clothes.”

Arthur turned red. “I do not.” He sniffed. “They’re very impractical.”

Eames laughed and laughed.

***

After dinner, as they tidied their plates, Eames moved behind Arthur and put his hands on his ass. It was just as nice as it looked from the balcony. He whispered in Arthur’s ear, “You really do have a fantastic bottom, by the way. I thought it might be, when I saw you in the forest, and I was very right.” He blew on his earlobe.

Arthur laughed and turned around. His dimples were fully out and he looked at Eames with a delightful happiness. “Kings probably shouldn’t be chasing commoners they think might be hot under their coat, that’s a pretty irresponsible way to run a kingdom.”

Eames smiled. “And you know what’s responsible, do you? Maybe I should hire you as my advisor to stop me from doing irresponsible things in the future. You could stand around in your delicious clothes and make disapproving faces at me all day.”

Arthur leaned into him. “Mmm, as tempting as that sounds, I think I would get bored of living in luxury and never doing anything myself." 

"You could go down to the forge whenever you wanted, or go off on secret mercenary jobs and come back and tell me all about the incredibly hot things you did.” Eames was startled by how much he wanted that. How much he wanted to wake up and see Arthur every day, to be able to give him looks during boring meetings, wanted him in his bed at the end of the day.

“Did Ari tell you I was a mercenary?” Arthur pressed a kiss into his jaw.

Eames’s breath caught. “Is it true?”

Arthur laughed and pulled him down by the fire, so that he was kneeling on the ground with Eames straddling him. “This is the strangest courtship I’ve ever been a part of.”

His mouth was right in front of Eames’s and he could feel Arthur’s breath against his lips. "Is it working? Are you wooed yet?”

Arthur smiled broadly, and threaded his hands into Eames hair, kissing him gently. Eames brought his arms around his waist and leaned in, kissing him back with everything he had.

He pulled back to take a breath. “I could charge you with theft, you know. Stealing wood that belongs to the king, and all.”  
Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m using the kings wood to heat the king, so I hardly think that counts.”

Eames shoved him a little and Arthur let out a squeak as he lost his balance and fell flat on his back. Eames landed heavily on top of him. He rolled off to give Arthur a chance to catch his breath and they looked at each other and started laughing.

Arthur recovered enough to crawl over to Eames and pull him in for another kiss. Eames sat up and crushed Arthur to him, their chests pressed together. He pressed kisses along Arthur’s jaw while Arthur panted into his hair.

Arthur worked his fingers along the buttons of Eames’ shirt. "Fuck, you’re ridiculous in those fancy clothes, why is that so hot?”

“I defy logic, darling, it’s one of my favourite things about myself."

Arthur brought their mouths together again and kissed him until Eames was lightheaded.

He said, “You know, I think this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He moved to Arthur’s neck, trailing kisses down his neck.

“It’s the 27th. Christmas was 2 days ago, Eames,” Arthur said, gasping the words out a little as Eames nipped at his collarbone.

Eames pulled Arthur’s mouth to his. “Just kiss me darling.” 

Arthur did, then pulled away. “I would take you to bed, but you’ve already put someone in mine.”

Eames grabbed the red cloak from where Arthur had left it on the chair. “Well, we’ll just have to improvise won’t we.”

Arthur pulled back. “Under no circumstances am I sleeping with you with your page right in the other room.”

“I hate to break it to you darling, but as king, I’m very rarely without at least one member of staff.” He spread the cloak out beside them.

“Oh god, is this what the future will look like? Never a shed of privacy? Should I just develop a voyeurism kink now, then?”

Eames, charmed by the idea of Arthur thinking of them having a future, turned and smiled into his neck. Arthur’s hair, loosened by Eames’s fingers, was curly and soft. “If you like. Develop any kinks you want, just let me know.”

Arthur let out a sigh. “I was planning on leaving in the spring. They don’t really need me at the forge and I was thinking I could go over to Saito’s kingdom and see if he has any work for a mercenary.” 

Eames frowned. “Come back with me, to the castle. Join the smithy there. Or be a mercenary, if you need the excitement. Or you can just lounge around in my bed. Just come back to me, please darling.”

Arthur smiled shyly. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

Eames kissed him gently, then pushed him down on his back. “Now that that’s settled, darling, I’d really like to take you apart.”

And he did.

***

Good King Wenceslas looked out  
On the Feast of Stephen  
When the snow lay round about  
Deep and crisp and even  
Brightly shone the moon that night  
Though the frost was cruel  
When a poor man came in sight  
Gathering winter fuel

Hither, page, and stand by me,  
If thou knowst it, telling  
Yonder peasant, who is he?  
Where and what his dwelling?  
Sire, he lives a good league hence,  
Underneath the mountain  
Right against the forest fence  
By Saint Agnes fountain.

Bring me flesh and bring me wine  
Bring me pine logs hither  
Thou and I shall see him dine  
When we bear them thither.  
Page and monarch, forth they went  
Forth they went together  
Through the rude winds wild lament  
And the bitter weather

Sire, the night is darker now  
And the wind blows stronger  
Fails my heart, I know not how  
I can go no longer.  
Mark my footsteps, good my page  
Tread thou in them boldly  
Thou shall find the winters rage  
Freeze thy blood less coldly.

In his masters step he trod  
Where the snow lay dinted  
Heat was in the very sod  
Which the Saint had printed  
Therefore, Christian men, be sure  
Wealth or rank possessing  
Ye, who now will bless the poor  
Shall yourselves find blessing.

**Author's Note:**

> you can follow me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theskyandsea)
> 
> happy holidays!


End file.
